Let Love Lead Us
by shimmersing
Summary: It's a time of celebration on Odessen and across the galaxy. For members of the Alliance it's a joyful but poignant time. Jedi Consular Aitahea, Senya, and Lana – Lana! - take the cantina stage as a surprise to everyone. [SWTOR; Post-KotET]


_I'm a little behind in sharing this, but consider it as any part of any holiday... Enjoy!_

* * *

The celebrations of a thousand worlds had passed in the last year, most of them forgotten in the terror and struggle of so many battles and so much suffering. The mourning had been steady, and the peace supplied by the formation of the Eternal Alliance was tenuous at best. The Empire remained tentative allies, and the Republic was still an unknown quantity. It was difficult to know what direction the future would take.

Aitahea and Senya had taken it upon themselves to pick up where Vette had left off. After her loss, the usual raucous parties, the wild revels, and even a few Mandalorian kote ky'ram had diminished, even after the Alliance was victorious. This didn't sit well with anyone, but all were hesitant to take up the mantle until the consular and former knight approached the commander.

Erianthe had given her reluctant approval; she still wasn't quite sure if the traditions of Fete Week or Life Day were appropriate to their fledging alliance. But everything coalesced when Lana, who so rarely revealed details about her personal life, unexpectedly offered her own talent for the cause. It was hard to tell who was more surprised; even Theron didn't know about Lana's childhood keyboard training. She explained, somewhat bashfully, that with a little practice she could probably accompany singers. And so it was scheduled.

As usual on Odessen, it was raining.

The cantina stilled as Aitahea ascended the steps of the stage. When the Jedi turned toward the microphone and looked out over the room, she had to pause to blink back tears. Some clever being had placed carefully lit candles – real candles – around the room. Their glow lit up the myriad of skin tones and textures, reflecting back in eyes of all sizes and colors.

The consular's husband and daughter sat at a table closest to the stage, young Lucent alight with the excitement of being allowed into the cantina for once. Erithon grinned at Aitahea and gave her a little wave. To think the Barsen'thor would be standing on a stage about to sing in front of her husband and daughter, not to mention an audience of Imperial, Republic, and even Zakuulan folk – no Jedi in the galaxy could have foreseen this.

Senya politely cleared her throat just as Aitahea heard the first notes from Lana's keyboard. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath before offering the room an unsteady smile.

 _I don't care if the house is packed_

 _Or the strings of light are broken_

Sana-Rae lingered near a handful of Enclave students, while Bey'wan Aygo listened appreciatively from the bar. Aric Jorgan's schooled bearing hadn't changed, and Kaliyo was attempting to look indifferent, but their attendance itself was conspicuous. Though Dr. Oggurobb hadn't deigned to leave his lab, several of his scientists had wandered away from their projects and lingered at the edges of the cantina. Even Koth had paused in his pursuit of snacks to listen.

 _Love is who we are, and no season can contain it_

 _Love would never fall for that_

The couples had all gravitated toward each other. Torian and Tember stood close, the gunslinger leaning into the Mandalorian's tender embrace. Tember, having rarely heard Aitahea sing through their disconnected childhood, watched her elder sister with an admiring expression.

A few steps away from them were Prelsiava and Siravei, smuggler and hunter standing hand in hand. Sia's hair – always an interesting shade – was currently silver-white, setting her jade Miralian complexion aglow. Siravei's usually severe expression had softened, an unusual light of affection – usually reserved for Sia alone – brightening her dark eyes.

Even Alis and Abraxis sat with their shoulders touching, the agents conspicuously close for a couple who rarely expressed displays of affection. Hylo and Gault danced charmingly in an open space, sharing only an occasional chaste kiss given the unexpected audience of children that weren't usually in attendance. Aitahea watched Lucent pull a face at the adults before slipping away from Erithon.

 _Love is not a toy, and no paper will conceal it_

 _Love is simply joy that I'm home_

Standing near the commander, Theron Shan seemed oblivious to everyone but Lana. The spy watched as Lana's hands moved swiftly over the keys, her eyes flickering from the keyboard to Aitahea to Senya and back. Lana leaned into the rhythm, silently tapping a foot while her head bobbed gently.

 _Why so scared that you'll mess it up_

 _When perfection keeps you haunted?_

Alliance Commander Erianthe Tihomir, always the picturesque Jedi Knight in her impeccable white robes and serene expression, had her hands clasped a little too tightly in front of her. Her dark skin had a pallor to it, a shadow that had settled there after Vaylin's death and still hadn't lifted. Even when Valkorian had occupied her mind, a determined flush had brightened her face, an ardent energy suffused her every movement. Now the Miraluka Jedi stood like a statue, poised on the brink of shattering.

 _All we need is your best my love_

 _That's all anyone ever wanted_

In a far corner of the room stood Isme. The inquisitor watched the performance with hooded eyes, arms folded rigidly over her chest, until Arcann stepped to her side. She glanced up in surprise when he briefly touched her shoulder. The former emperor didn't quite smile at Isme, but the look was fond. When Isme turned back to watch the stage, her shoulders had relaxed and her eyes shone in the candlelight.

 _Love I look to you, and I sing_

Senya's rich alto buoyed Aitahea's sweeter soprano as the wordless chorus spiraled through the halls of the Alliance base. Even those still at their stations paused to turn their heads toward the melody as it dwindled away into the keyboard's dulcet notes, gently echoing away as Lana touched the final keys.

 _We sing_

 _Let love lead us_

There was a moment of breathless silence, then Lucent came flying around the corner and stood waving her hands from the stairs. "Mama! Everyone! It's snowing!"

The room turned as one to marvel at Aitahea's daughter, and Tember darted over to hoist her niece onto her hip. "Show us, Spark!" In pairs and handfuls, the crowd trickled up to the landing pad where, sure enough, glittering flakes drifted through the frosty air. Lucent wriggled out of her aunt's grasp and twirled through the flurries.

The last group out of the lift were the performers and their partners, Senya, and the commander. Erianthe lifted a hand, letting the snowflakes settle into her palm before they melted away. Lana gave Theron a knowing look before slipping her hand into his. A pleased smile spread over Senya's face as she watched her son place a hand beneath Isme's elbow. Aitahea and Erithon slipped through the crowd to Lucent, and the trooper lifted his daughter onto his shoulders.

Eventually, everyone wandered off the landing platform until Theron and Lana were the only ones left.

"Did you plan this?" Theron asked.

Lana's replying laugh was warm. "I appreciate the recognition of my superior organizational skills, but not even a Sith can make it snow, Theron."

Theron considered this for a moment before nodding and slipping an arm around her shoulders. "Just checking."

* * *

 _AN: In my headcanon, learning the keyboard was part of Lana's upbringing on Dromund Kaas, like any upper-class Imperial girl (she actually also sings spectacularly but that's never going to happen in public ever). I'm only using partial and disordered lyrics, but if you're curious, you can refer to "Love is Christmas" by Sara Bareilles for an idea of the sound._


End file.
